ABOLITION
REVOLUTION
Aviah Sarah Day & Shanice Octavia McBean
ISBN 978-0-7453-4651-9
Divided into sixteen theses followed by a symposium, this is
advocacy for the abolition of “institutions of state coercion”. As
such it falls short of the customary anarchist argument for the
abolition of the State in its entirety. This may be perfectly
sensible; perhaps denuding the State of its punitive elements and
leaving its more benign functions intact is a reasonable tactic.
Taking a longer view, however, the replacement of the State by
self-governing institutions is arguably the best way to ensure
people encounter one another on grounds of equality. Nevertheless,
Day and McBean produce convincing, well-researched evidence for most
of their arguments. They cut their teeth in Sisters Uncut which held
its first meeting in November 2014 and which has been active and
effective in imaginative ways, challenging the assumptions of our
economic and social system. From its inception in London the group
fanned out across the country. The point Day and McBean make in
their second thesis is that there’s nothing like activism to
convince you of the need for the change and no matter how much
theory you are armed with, experience is an indispensable teacher.
The book is impressive in its reference to specifics. For example,
one of the targets they aim at is “carceral feminism”, the idea,
originated in America (hardly surprisingly) that law, policing, the
courts, prison, are the way to deal with abuse of women. Entrenched
in the UK, it’s probable the degree of public support is high:
people tend to make a simplistic and misguided connection between
levels of policing and safety. The authors, however, spot that this
brand of so-called feminism is hand in glove with the State, and
leads to destructive, often racist and class-based interventions.
We’ve been locking people up for centuries and we haven’t solved the
problems of harm. As George Jackson, cited in the book as the
inspiration for the Attica Prison revolt, remarked: there are
hundreds upon hundreds of prisons and thousands upon thousands of
laws but no social order, no social peace. Day and McBean have the
anarchist’s understanding that society is beneficial but the State
usually not. Carceral feminism, superficially attractive, looked at
more closely turns out to reinforce what it’s intended to combat.
Another example: the closure of Holloway prison in 2016. Reclaim
Holloway, drawing ideas from a Radical Alternatives to Prison
pamphlet, Alternative to Holloway, called for the site to be turned
into housing for twenty thousand households. The campaign has been,
at least partly successful, gaining support from Sadiq Khan (perhaps
illustrating that social democrats can be persuaded to do the right
thing). Among the many pertinent references are the cases of Mark
Duggan and Sarah Everard. If you followed the media story about the
former, you could be forgiven for believing he was an armed,
hardened criminal gang member who took a pot-shot at the police. The
account of the events provided
by the media, fed by the police, evoke the atmosphere of
Accidental Death of an Anarchist. Day and McBean argue that
policing is racist by nature, that despite the fine Enlightenment
principles we pretend to live by, the State needs to keep a portion
of the population suppressed and pigmentation is an easy identifier.
They cite the hilarious opinion of Sir Kenneth Newman, ex-Met
Commissioner that Jamaicans are “constitutionally disorderly”.
Prejudice on the basis of pigmentation is less prevalent than fifty
years ago when such an opinion was the stock-in-trade of golf club
chatter, but it remains ingrained. Even liberal folk who are
self-consciously anti-racist, harbour suspicion of people with
darker skins and flatter noses, as Joseph Conrad put it.
Their discussion of race rightly dismisses it as a biological
category. Biologists recognize nine taxonomies descending from Life
to Species. Race doesn’t feature. Richard Lewontin made the vital
distinction: differences are biological, distinctions cultural.
Eye-colour is a biological difference but it implies no social
distinction. Nor does pigmentation. It might be sensible to drop the
use of the word “race” altogether. It’s the oppressor’s word. What
it means is pigmentation. For the racist a dark skin means
inferiority. “Race” confuses the matter because it gives a tinge of
scientific respectability to what is mystical stupidity. If we
rename “racism”, “pigmentation prejudice” it ought to focus
attention on the superficiality of the difference being used to
sustain distinctions. Judging people by their pigmentation is as
irrational as judging by the size of their feet.
Their discussion of the origin of “race” recognizes its potency as a
tool of exploitation and oppression. 1492 is a convenient date. If
negative reaction to people of a different skin shade were natural,
the Tainos would have viewed Columbus with horror. His journal tells
us they were polite, friendly, decorous, welcoming, innocent.
Naturally, he returned to Europe, gathered a body of men, went back,
slaughtered them and took their treasure. It was during the
sixteenth century in Europe that ideas of immutable racial
difference took hold. The origin of racism, one of Europe’s most
successful exports, was conquest in pursuit of lucre. If the
majority of the world’s population could be categorised as less than
human, their exploitation, degradation and elimination could be
justified by upstanding European Christians.
It follows as the night the day that if pigmentation is indicative
of moral character, those of a darker hue are likely to be
criminals. In a culture founded on conquest based on racism in
pursuit of material wealth, how could a force tasked with defending
property not be prejudiced against those deemed to be morally
debilitated by biology? Hence the killing of Mark Duggan, the deaths
in police custody and the alarmingly high levels of stop and search
actions against people of colour.
Sarah Everard was a “wholly blameless victim” according to the
sentencing judge. Day and McBean point up the difference between
this and the inculpation of Mark Duggan. In the same way, the
Establishment gasped in disbelief that a serving police officer
could be guilty of terrible violence; but his colleagues knew. They
kept quiet in the time-honoured,
close-ranks-and-defend-the-institution manner (a technique
beautifully perfected by the royal family). Had the victim been a
lesbian of colour the judge might have had other remarks to make.
The discussion of moral panic is excellently handled. By sticking to
the evidence, the authors show that, for example, the hysteria about
knife-crime and gangs is a deliberate ploy to justify heavy-handed
interventions, more policing, more targeting. The media suppress the
statistics which could calm the public mood. The result is moral
panic and authoritarian but ineffective measures. That thirty
youngsters were fatally stabbed in London in 2021 is tragic, but
what needs to be done is more provision for young people, places for
them to go, things for them to do, a culture that they can own.
Instead, we expect good behaviour to grow from hanging around
shopping malls.
The linkage of what is happening today to the history of
colonisation is very astute. The Victorians distinguished the
deserving from the undeserving poor, the latter associated with
slaves, vagabonds, people without property and fixed lives. The
creation of a police force was more than anything a response to the
poor organising to improve their lives. It was tested in Ireland
through measures like the Dublin Police Act of 1786. What was good
for the upstart colonised could be good for a recalcitrant common
people. There is discussion of Patrick Colquhoun and the Marine
River Police, established to prevent London dockers filching once
their “perks” had been
criminalised, but not of the Bow Street Runners, brought into
existence in 1749 partly through the efforts of Henry Fielding, one
of the 18th century’s best novelists and, despite having
condemned a man to death for murder, in his time, a relatively
enlightened figure. Prior to their establishment, law enforcement
was in the hands of private citizens and subject to significant
corruption, like that of Jonathan Wilde for example. Fielding’s Bow
Street Runners were a response to an increase in crime from 1680.
The magistrate’s concern was more justice than control and he was
ahead of his time in his recognition that much crime was generated
by appalling social conditions. Of course, Fielding was well-to-do
and early 18th century London was, if not a fully-fledged
capitalist economy, at least a “commercial” one, in Adam Smith’s
sense, but it’s important to recognise the ambiguous motivation in
the emergence of a police force.
The essential point is well-made, however: police and prisons have
always been about social control. 1556 is a crucial date: the
creation of the Bridewell where vagabonds, disorderly women and
other undesirables were imprisoned. Just what was meant by
“disorderly women” in the sixteenth century is anybody’s guess.
Police and prisons require criminals. Firefighters don’t require
houses ablaze. They are delighted if their preventative work stops
disasters; but if everybody behaved themselves, it would be a
calamity for the police and the prisons. When Peel’s police force
was established in 1829 Britain was riven by class struggle. The
Combination Acts had been repealed in 1824 (not because the
government favoured trade unions but because it wrongly believed the
repeal would quell the demand for them), 60,000 workers had been on
strike in Scotland in 1820, the State needed to impose itself. Of
course, the State had long been the protector of property. Day and
McBean stress the role of the enclosure movement (which began in
1265 with the Statute of Merton) in forcing the common folk into the
towns which burgeoned during the Industrial Revolution. The
contention that the State is the enemy of capitalism doesn’t tally
with the evidence. Capitalism is characterised by the use of State
power in defence of property. As the police force was brought into
existence to respond to growing work autonomy, it follows that it
needs an ideology ie a masking function. The notion that criminality
is rife, that we are all in permanent danger of being murdered in
our beds, that more or less everyone is a potential criminal, that
only the existence of the police prevents the complete breakdown of
social peace, is the result.
When the London Makhnovists occupied Oleg Deripraska’s empty London
mansion in March 2022, 176 police officers responded supported by
numerous vehicles and a helicopter. Had there been a report of
ongoing rape, the response might have been more muted. Everyone
knows the conviction rate for rape is dismal. Make no mistake, if as
many bank robberies happened as rapes, the clear-up rate would be a
little higher. Capitalist property is the problem.
The book is very astute also about the way policing is insinuated
into all our lives: teachers are required to report potential
terrorists (Islamic of course); doctors, nurses, civil servants are
co-opted to recognise “pre-criminality”. The concept has a long,
colonial history, but is vacuous. Thinking of robbing a bank isn’t a
crime. Nor is wanting to assassinate the Prime Minister. A crime is
defined by its commission, our thoughts and intentions are none of
the State’s business. This kind of paranoid snooping is the
irrational alternative to what is really needed: the justice and
equality which can attenuate nefarious motivation.
The book is at its best when it relies on evidence and draws
arguments from it. In this, it is an inheritor of the Enlightenment
tradition: Hume had a point in arguing that a wise person will
adjust their thinking to the evidence. The evidence is
well-researched and presented, the arguments logical and the style
clear and unencumbered. The overall thesis is that as there is
growing support for abolition of the State’s punitive functions,
this can be used to power revolutionary change: “Abolition must work
towards the wider goal of seizing the land, natural resources and
wealth stolen from us by capitalists: abolition must work in service
of proletarian revolution.”
Proletarian revolution is a Marxist concept. It’s important to
recognise Marx didn’t believe capitalists have “stolen” their
wealth. He thought capitalism was a necessary phase in the
development of society and bourgeois property perfectly legitimate
under capitalist conditions. The Communist Manifesto is full
of praise for the dynamism of capitalism. He virtually never argued
for equality. He didn’t like the term because it implied comparisons
he rejected. In communist society, each individual would be free to
fulfil their potential as they wished. What need then for invidious
comparisons? The problem with Marx’s theory of proletarian
revolution is that it assumes the absence of democracy of even the
most limited kind. Towards the end of his life, he argued that in
the particular conditions prevailing in Britain, there might be a
slow war of attrition between capital and labour, but he had not a
word to say about how radical change might be brought about by
democratic means. Granting universal suffrage is a piece of
capitalist genius. A far-sighted Tory like Disraeli understood it
would engender the working-class reactionary. Add to this that as
soon as universal suffrage was conceded, the capitalists began
working night and day to ensure their ideas were in everyone’s
heads. Hence, the propaganda system.
Chomsky argues that the propaganda system serves the function in
democracies that the bludgeon fulfils in authoritarian regimes. The
media play a crucial role: debate appears to be free, but in fact
operates within very narrow limits; but the system goes well beyond
the news media. Day and McBean refer to “copaganda”. Popular culture
is filled with material which valorises capitalism. Pop stars are
capitalists with guitars. Footballers are capitalists in sports
shirts. We don’t live in a society where people fear the knock on
the door at three in the morning. People can say what they like in
the pub. Day and McBean can publish this book with a relatively
large house; but the propaganda system ensures it will have little
reach. In this context, what evidence is there that the British
working-class is revolutionary? The research suggests that
working-class radicalism has always focused on immediate gains
rather than fundamental change, which makes sense: people will
always try to make the best of their existing circumstances.
In the same way, what evidence is there that a majority of people
favour abolishing police and prisons? Without a majority in favour
it can’t be brought about democratically and revolution looks
unlikely. Even if there were a revolution (the nearest in Europe
since 1945 was Paris 1968) what happens after? Who makes the
decisions? How is legitimacy established? What happened in France
was the inevitable general election which returned de Gaulle. The
conundrum we have to deal with is how to change from capitalism to
co-operation by democratic means. The greatest obstacle is the
propaganda system.
When Day and McBean speak of proletarian revolution they let go of
the evidence and take hold of theory. They suggest violent
confrontation with the capitalist State; but there is no force in
contemporary society which can match the potential violence of the
State. They don’t just have the police, courts and prisons, they
have an army. If revolution broke out people would be shot on the
streets in their thousands. Why would they risk that when they can
walk to a polling booth?
Our democracy is hobbled by the propaganda system which stuffs
people’s heads with pro-capitalist ideas night and day. We have to
work out how to defeat it. Getting ourselves shot or beaten up by
the police isn’t intelligent politics and Martin Luther King was
pertinent: if he wasn’t morally opposed to violence, he would be
tactically opposed. Faced with the extraordinary capacity for
violence of the modern State, we have to work out democratic means
of change.
It's also vital not to reinforce the divisions capitalism thrives
on. Stop and search is used much more against people of colour than
the general population, but doesn’t a campaign against stop and
search against coloured people suggest it is their issue alone, and
doesn’t that risk alienating, or at least leaving indifferent, those
who aren’t coloured? Why not a campaign against stop and search, on
the grounds that no citizen should be subject to it without very
powerful cause?
Day and McBean’s book is full of excellent research, convincing
evidence, fascinating detail and well-placed moral outrage at the
nature of our economic and social arrangements. They are in the
tradition of anarchist thought which brought into existence the only
example we have of a functioning modern society with neither
capitalists nor the State: Barcelona in 1936. That was the result of
a revolution crushed by Stalinists and fascists. What we have to
work out is how to arrive at such a society democratically. There is
every reason to believe we can.
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